The Stars, My Consolation
by et-tu-lj
Summary: Aurora traced the path of stars across the heavens, but the journey of her heart eluded her. Pairings: Aurora Sinistra/Barty Crouch Jr., Aurora Sinistra/"Alastor Moody."


**Author's Note:** Given the plot elements (Protagonist: Astronomer, Antagonist: Memories of the past, and Event: An old man interrupts) from a random generator, I had an idea, and decided why not. Based more on book canon than movies for Barty, and fit mostly in the vast unknown details for Sinistra.

Also, the title is a reference to Alfred Bester's _The Stars, My Destination_.

* * *

Aurora traced the path of stars across the heavens, but the journey of her heart eluded her.

Above her head, skies shifted. Distant suns moved inexorably along pre-ordained paths, their planets pulled along like recalcitrant children. Moons and orbital bodies circled endlessly. The celestial dance continued, while Aurora stayed on the sidelines and watched.

Aurora Sinistra sighed, and ran a hand over her face. The skin beneath her fingertips had lost its suppleness. Wrinkles formed around her eyes, giving her a permanent squint. Aurora understood timelessness. The stars moved, the faces changed, yet only she grew older. The years weighed upon her, while each batch of students stayed the same. Perpetual children, fresh-faced and eager. Ever further behind, as each year carried her further away. She was turning to dust while the heavens danced on.

But she'd been young once.

She murmured a spell, and the celestial dance slowed to a crawl. The view slowed to real time, and the stars took a breath to hang motionless in the space above her desk. As they'd hung in the sky that night, pinpricks in the velvet night.

His voice was soft, though they were alone, as if the night were a secret held close between them. "Aurora," he whispered, and the caress of his voice made her shiver.

Their homework lay forgotten, scrolls and quills scattered about the tower top, and she'd never felt so out of control. This sandy-haired Slytherin made the pressures of tests and assignments fall away. A month before O.W.L.s, and the thing she most wanted to study was his quicksilver smile.

He pulled off his cloak, folding the slick black fabric into a loose pillow. Hers, he'd spread flat across the stones. When he lay back, he tugged at her hand and she let herself be pulled after him. The stars shone like diamonds in his dark eyes.

His hand traced a bronze line down the blue silk of her tie, then rose to pull teasingly at the knot. Her breath caught, and the corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile as she stiffened beneath his touch. She moved back, out of reach. He grinned, but let her retreat to the safety of her star charts.

The sky spread above them, stars falling into ordered lines across the cosmos as he loosened her tie and pulled it free. She picked out constellations and ran through lists in her head. He moved sideways, sighing, and laid his head in her lap as she looked up at the stars. One hand rested on her knee, fingertips touching bare skin just beyond the hem of her skirt. She went still, heart pounding.

"Which is your favorite?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

His hand moved, curling slightly against the fabric of her skirt, and one finger slipped beneath the hem. Her world narrowed to the touch of his soft fingertip against her leg.

"Barty," she said, afraid. She'd never done this before.

"Just answer the question," he said, voice teasing. "Which constellation?"

A second finger slid beneath the fabric, tracing across the top of her leg just above her knee. She shivered, and his hand stopped moving. Their eyes met, and she could see laughter, held just inside. He knew so much more than she. She blushed, and looked back to the sky.

"Orion," she blurted, all she could think of in her panic.

There were no study guides for this. She should've stayed in her common room, where the stars were charted safely on the ceiling and not contemplated on sleek fabric beneath the open sky.

"A safe choice," he said. "Defend it."

She frowned.

His hand began to move, sliding inexorably upwards, and only the familiar pattern of argument and defense kept her from falling apart. "Orion is visible from every continent, and as such, has earned a place in the mythologies of almost every culture. It offers countless opportunities for comparison and contrast."

"Yet it's simplistic," he countered, as his hand slid across her skin. "One of the brightest and most obvious constellations to pick out, even for a beginner."

Silence, as his thumb moved, curving away from the rest of his fingers. It slid softly inwards, along the curve of her thigh, while his palm warmed the top of her leg. He nudged her skirt up, and starlight fell on his pale fingers, startlingly white against her skin.

"Everyone has to start somewhere," she said weakly.

He smiled, and turned his head. His cheek rested against her leg, while his thumb caressed her thigh. When he exhaled, his breath was the sigh of night breeze. Chill bumps prickled across her skin, and she let out a tiny sigh.

He chuckled, and she could feel the vibration where he touched her.

"What's yours?" she asked, to turn the attention on him. She couldn't bear his sharp focus.

"My favorite constellation?"

The question surprised him, for he sat up to consider it. Aurora sighed as he pulled away, but he did not go far. His eyes followed starlight up the line of her leg to the shadowed darkness beneath her skirt. He reached for her, but she stopped him before his soft hands pushed the fabric up higher.

"Your answer," she demanded, needing a moment to steady herself.

He considered, glancing up at the sky before answering. "Hydra."

She rolled her eyes. "Cliche."

"I know," he said. "A snake constellation. But let me defend."

He grinned, and touched a spot just above her knee. "Its tail lies between Libra and Centaurus in the south." He tapped a fingertip and a point of light sparked into existence at his touch and glowed against the dark night of her skin. Non-verbal magic, as strong as if he'd used his wand. "While its head lies far across the sky."

With his other hand, he pushed her skirt all the way up, revealing the full length of her leg to the night sky. She gasped, as he tapped the inside of her thigh and made a second star against her skin. The spot was dangerously close to her knickers. "Barty," she whispered. Was it fear or anticipation that made her voice quaver?

He continued, looking up into her eyes. He bent, touching his lips to the first star, just above her knee. When he lifted his head, the kiss tingled in the night air.

"What else?" she asked, breathless.

"Hydra stretches over 100 degrees, the longest constellation." His fingers moved up her leg and stars followed in their wake. "A twisting line of stars, crossing south to north across the sky." Her breath came faster as he charted the constellation against her skin. The charm, which she'd not felt before, grew stronger. Her skin tingled, as each light sparked into being and gave off a faint pulse of magic. She panted, and tried to stay still.

"It's the largest constellation too." He spread his fingers wide and put his palm flush against her skin. As he spoke, both hands slid slowly up her leg, spanning the skin between stars. "Hydra covers 1303 square degrees of the night sky." His pale hands slid across her star-sparked skin, and she writhed beneath his touch.

"Counter argument?" he asked.

She struggled for a response, and she could feel his satisfaction at the delay.

"Hydra has only one bright star." She hesitated, and pointed. Her fingertip trembled above the correct star, at the top of the constellation he'd charted and just beyond the silken trim of her knickers. "Alphard, an orange giant."

"A point," he agreed. "But I'll stick with my choice." He grinned, and kissed the star beneath her fingertip. She let her head fall back, and watched as the stars spiralled overhead.

Aurora shivered, remembering. Her cold and lonely office held the same spin of stars, but the girl she'd been lay far behind. She'd been old since the day she'd read of his sentence, and known he was lost to her forever.

A knock.

Aurora froze, feeling guilty. Her memories had been so vivid she felt the impulse to make sure her clothes were buttoned straight. But of course, everything was in order. Her indiscretions were long past.

The knock came again, and Aurora went to the door. When she opened it, she found Mad Eye- no, Professor Moody- standing in the hall. He was leaning heavily on his staff, looking down at the floor. His wild eye seemed focused down the stairs, as if checking for observers. When it rolled back in her direction, she realized she was staring rudely and rushed to welcome him.

"Come in, Professor. Please." She picked a stack of first-year lunar charts from the guest chair, then frowned when she realized her desk was just as full.

"No need to make a fuss, Aurora. Won't take long."

The use of her first name made Aurora pause. She felt exposed, somehow, after what she'd been thinking. But he was a colleague, and it was only the fact that he was here in her office that made her feel vulnerable. Few of the staff ventured this high, and she was used to socializing on her own terms. But that was her hangup, not his. She offered him what she hoped was a smile, and put the charts back down.

"Of course, Alastor," she said. "What can I do for you?"

He went to a side table, where she had a set of antique astrolabes on display. He bent to examine it, saying nothing as he peered at the weathered bronze artifact.

He's nervous, she realized.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Sorry, I…" He cleared his throat, and began again. "I've been assigned to chaperone the Yule Ball."

A sympathetic smile slipped out, as she understood. "As have I. So I'm afraid I can't trade-"

"I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of a dance."

She felt her mouth drop open, and picked up the lunar charts again to cover her shock. She sat stiffly in her desk chair, and shoved them in a drawer. When she'd composed herself, she answered him without meeting his eyes. "Such things are best left to the young, I'm afraid." She slid the drawer shut again, wincing when it banged louder than she'd intended.

"I'm no prize, I know." He smoothed down his frizzled hair, frowning at his reflection in the astrolabe. "But I thought maybe, if you hadn't been asked yet."

"Alastor, please. It's not that. It's…" She looked up at the ceiling, searching the stars for a reason. "I don't do well at parties. I'll chaperone, but I'm better up here with my books and my stars."

"I understand," he said. Sadness showed plain on his scarred face. He sighed, and stumped his way back to the door. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"What's your favorite constellation?" she asked, on impulse.

He hesitated, and turned back. Both eyes fixed on her with more intensity than she'd seen from him. "Hercules, whose enemies lie vanquished at his feet."

She sighed, disappointed. An Auror answer, predictable and dull. She'd hoped…

Aurora turned away sharply. She wasn't sure what she'd hoped.

"And yours?"

"Hydra," she said, voice cracking. "With the solitary one at its head. It seems appropriate for a woman trapped in the astronomy tower."

She straightened her desk, putting assignment scrolls and grading quills back in their places. If he noticed her hands were shaking, he did not comment.

"But doesn't Hydra have a mate?"

"What?"

She stopped, staring. He was watching the stars on her ceiling, but his wild eye seemed to trap her in its gaze.

"A partner constellation, up there somewhere."

She looked up too. "Hydrus. But they lie so far apart." Tears prick her eyes, as the stars hang overhead.

"A shame so much divides them." Alastor's voice is soft, full of a sadness she does not understand. He's an old man, as old as she feels, but he too must have been young once. Something in her softens.

He sighs, and turns to go.

"Wait," she says. "I'll go."

When the aging professor turns back to her, his quicksilver smile is that of a younger man. He's nothing like the boy she loved so long ago, but his expression makes her feel young again.

"Even the stars dance in their orbits."


End file.
